Bristol is known for its beautiful, period buildings: the Victorian splendour of Whiteladies Road; the symmetrical Georgian crescents of Clifton; the local sandstone with its honey hues. But tucked away in the old service alley for the Lord Mayor's mansion sits a rather jumbly collection of coach and mews houses. Slap bang in the middle - as incongruous as a castle on a council estate - the Bauhaus is an unconventional white cube that pays homage to the Modern movement.

Modernism itself isn't an unusual style for Bristol. Marcel Breuer - one of the original Bauhaus pioneers - worked in Bristol on the Gane Pavilion for the 1936 Royal Show. Examples of Modern movement architecture can be found in the suburbs - Brislington, Sneyd Park and Westbury-on-Trym. But the Bauhaus, as it has been called by its present owners, isn't quite what it seems. Despite its name, it is not a relic of the German design movement. It was built in 1971, in the style of 30s modernism, in the old garden of the house behind.

Amrish and Priya Pandya are the third owners. They moved into the house in 1997. They wanted to live in Clifton, but found the tame, traditional estate agent offerings all too similar to the Victorian and Edwardian houses in Manchester and Gloucester, where they grew up. Amrish's brother found the house, and they fell in love with it straightaway.

It cost in the region of £150,000 - about the same as a mid-range Clifton flat. Quite a bargain, you might think. But over the past few years, they have spent a third of that again making it their own. Amrish is a designer and property developer, and Priya runs a franchised high-street fashion shop, so they didn't have too much trouble getting their heads round their rare new home. It is now white inside and out. This isn't to say the house is plain. It is furnished eclectically, with much of the furniture designed by the couple themselves, including the vast wooden coffee table, the brass and copper canvases and the sleek, grown-up fireplace.

'The minimal nature of the interior allows you to do what you want, and doesn't force you into any one style,' says Amrish, although they have followed the aesthetic of the 30s, rather than the 70s, when the decade became fashionable again in both clothing and architecture. The wooden floors are reclaimed school gymnasium boards, and the entire house is filled with exotic palms and rustic ferns. Hanging from the living-room ceiling is a brass mobile that tinkles in the breeze and catches the light from two enormous square windows.

Alongside classic Le Corbusier furniture, dashes of colour leap off the walls from modern canvases and the glittery golds and oranges of Hindu ornaments. A picture of Krishna was inherited from Amrish's mother, and it is only the start. He has plans to introduce more Hindu iconography into the house, but in a modern form. He is taking some designs to the foundry in his hometown in India, hoping they can create art from his fusion of cultures.

The ground floor has had a variety of incarnations, including a fully sprung, wooden dancefloor installed by the professional dancers who built the house. A bit of re-jigging and the ballroom is now the cosy master bedroom - the most secluded room in the house. The sense of privacy is extended into the courtyard at the back. The house has been arranged logically, with each room designed to be flexible. The whole of the ground floor is open-plan because it suits the couple's lifestyle - cooking, eating, entertaining and living all in one large space. They recently had a party to celebrate Diwali, and the space was filled with people, candles, food and music. Upstairs are his and hers studies - Amrish works from home and enjoys his room's large windows and roof lights.

The Bauhaus's flat roof, however, is far from practical. Many original Modern movement houses have acquired pitched roofs, destroying the simple, straight-line aesthetic. But this is one flat roof that's here to stay: the polymer is more leakproof, say Amrish and Priya, than terracotta tiles. Friends and family love it, enjoying the light and space. Priya's nieces think they are on the set of some cool music video when they come to visit, and Amrish's dad is reminded of the Corbusier- designed houses in his Indian hometown of Ahmedabad.

The irony is that 30 years on, the house wouldn't get past today's planning laws. The property itself isn't listed, but Amrish and Priya had to apply for permission to build the clean, white wall that divides their tiled courtyard, pond, sculptures and exotic potted plants from the road. The planners suggested a rubble-stone wall instead - completely at odds with the rest of the house, but, apparently, in keeping with the rest of the road.

'We've got to get away from the mind-set that lots of variety in one space looks bad,' says Amrish. 'People are scared that if they build something too different, nobody will want to buy it. They will - you're just looking at a smaller market. If you do something good there'll always be people who like it.'

He worries about the state of contemporary British architecture and our tolerance levels towards anything new or different. 'Why should the appearance of something offend people? If you applied it to people you'd be branded a racist. The best architects have to go abroad because they can't get permission for their designs here. We don't have enough confidence in our abilities. With materials today you can build so much more than you could in the 30s.' If only you could get the planning permission.